This interview with Milica & Željko is part of our series dedicated to Internationalis Expat People Shining Stars—texts recording the stories of internationals and expats who have chosen countries in the region, and the World to live, create, and thrive outside of their comfort zone, i.e., their home country.
Milica and Željko, a couple from Serbia, have been living on the Faroe Islands for 17 years. Their journey began almost by accident, but soon turned into a story of adaptation, resilience, and family life in one of the most remote and breathtaking corners of Europe. From the first cultural shocks and practical struggles to building a life rooted in nature, hiking, and tourism, they have embraced their new home with open hearts. Today, they not only welcome travelers from around the globe but also inspire others through their story of courage, authenticity, and love for life.
From Belgrade to the Faroe Islands: A Family’s Unexpected Journey
People often ask me why we chose the Faroe Islands. The truth is that the Faroe Islands chose us because, in fact, we moved here almost by accident. My husband, Željko, was reading the newspaper during his work break when he saw an ad saying that a car painter was needed in Denmark. However, it turned out that it wasn’t Denmark after all, but the Faroe Islands, which are part of Denmark but enjoy a high degree of autonomy.
At that time, back in 2007, we didn’t have a computer or the internet, so we looked up the Faroe Islands in a school atlas. They looked like a tiny dot in the middle of the vast Atlantic Ocean, and that scared us a little. Still, we decided to give it a try, and after a few months, Željko got his work permit. He found a job at a car service, rented an apartment, and lived alone while paving the way for us to live together again.
It took three years before the children and I managed to get residence permits and move permanently. That wasn’t an easy decision—we had to take our older daughter out of school—but eventually, we made the cut and left.
Adapting to Faroese Traditions, Nature, and Everyday Life
Before moving to the Faroes, my whole life had taken place within a few dozen square kilometers. I was born in Velika Moštanica, near Belgrade, and I got married in Umka, only six kilometers from my home. For me, moving anywhere was almost unimaginable—going to the seaside already felt exotic, let alone moving to the far north of the globe.
In fact, I hardly remember the beginning of our life in the Faroes and the move itself, because at that time I was mostly focused on logistics: unenrolling my daughter from school, deciding what clothes to pack in our limited luggage, how to prepare the house so it would be waiting for us in good condition the following year, and so on.
I do remember that we arrived on a beautiful sunny day, the house bathed in afternoon sunlight, and for a moment I felt relieved—but only for a moment. The very next day, the Faroese unpredictable weather showed its true face. Rain was pouring, the wind was blowing, and I had only brought clothes for the hot Belgrade summer. That kind of clothing and footwear was completely unfit for the local conditions. The children had already outgrown their autumn clothes from the previous year, and I didn’t have the money to buy new ones right away.
Then—activate my fighting mode—I remembered that when I once visited Željko before our permanent move, I had seen a second-hand shop. I rushed inside, bought some clothes, and later adjusted them for the children—luckily, the house we lived in already had a sewing machine.
All in all, I didn’t expect anything. I know that the beginning of our life on the Faroes was mostly about solving one crisis after another. Now I see that much of it was unnecessary—it was just my Balkan mentality coming out, afraid to lower my guard. After 17 years of living in this fairy-tale place, I’ve realized that this guard was only an obstacle. While holding it up, I failed to see the beauty of the world around me through my clenched fists—and to truly live. I learned this with time, but unfortunately, many of our immigrants never reach that stage where they can feel at home here.
Looking back now, I believe our life here is better than it was before the move, but only because we managed to adapt to the new environment and way of living. People are kind and pleasant, they try hard to avoid direct conflict, and they are always ready to help. Returning to the story about unsuitable clothes, I remember how the mothers at the kindergarten organized themselves and prepared several large bags of clothes and shoes—wonderful things their children had outgrown—and simply left them in my car, without asking for or expecting any thanks. They wanted to help, but they didn’t want me to feel inferior.
The Faroese are people deeply connected to nature and to each other. I think that’s what helped them survive as a nation in this harsh Atlantic climate—depending so much on each other, never hesitating to ask for or offer help, because that was the way to make life easier for everyone. They don’t shield children from reality; instead, they teach them from the start what life is and how to use natural resources.
The biggest shock came during our first year in October, when sheep are traditionally slaughtered on the Faroes. It’s a big event, and people take days off work to help each other gather and slaughter the sheep, then process the meat and wool. Sheep roam freely in the mountains all year, each farmer having an enclosed pasture of several hundred hectares, and they are only gathered in May, when they lamb, and in October, when they are slaughtered. Children take part in every stage of the process; they are not shielded from knowing where their food comes from. It might seem brutal, but when you think about it more deeply, it actually makes sense.
During that period, children even have a special nature class where the large school gym is covered with plastic sheets, and one or two sheep are brought inside. Together with teachers and classmates, they slaughter the animals, collect the blood for blood sausages, clean the intestines for further use, and so on. The children freely use knives, cut pieces of meat, stir the blood so it doesn’t clot—all under the careful eye of their teachers. For them, it’s pure joy; they laugh and enjoy themselves. But we were completely unprepared for that.
Our daughter, who was 12 at the time, had never seen an animal being killed and came home deeply upset, crying about how the sheep “cried” when the teacher killed it, and how the other children were splashing each other with blood. Of course, the teacher later called us that day to explain what it was all about and why it’s important for children to learn these things early on.
That also opened our eyes. We learned that children shouldn’t be shielded from life, that it’s normal for them to use knives, and that they must understand meat doesn’t just come from a supermarket package. These are things that will serve them later in life, and the earlier they learn them, the sooner they can move on and learn more.
Raising Children Abroad: Language, School, and Cultural Shocks
Our older daughter started fifth grade without knowing the language, and it was hard for her to fit in because, by the teacher’s instructions, the children only spoke Faroese with her. Since she was at a sensitive age, she withdrew into herself and refused to socialize. After almost a year, she joined a volleyball club, and because she was tall and talented, her teammates accepted her. That helped her relax enough to start speaking the language.
Our younger daughter was still little and went to kindergarten, where things were better organized. The kindergarten had an open concept, based on workshops. Every day, children could choose whether they wanted to work in the kitchen, in the garden, or in hobby workshops—special rooms where they could hammer nails, paint small stools, glue paper collages, draw, sew, and so on. The teachers cleverly added another workshop called “Let’s teach Tanja Faroese,” and the children volunteered to help. Thanks to this, she was able to start school two years later with the same level of language as any other Faroese child.
Tourism, Hiking, and Instagram: Sharing the Faroe Islands with the World
Both of our daughters have now moved out of our house and live with their boyfriends nearby. Our older daughter, Ana, is studying at the Faculty of Education, while our younger daughter, Tanja, will begin studying mathematics at the University of Copenhagen in May, and in the meantime, she works in a fish factory.
On the Faroe Islands, football is a big thing, and that’s what makes us known globally. The reason is that, although the country has barely 50,000 inhabitants, the national team still manages to play in the qualifiers for the European and World Championships. Their most famous victory came in 1990, when the Faroese sensationally defeated Austria 1–0, which echoed throughout Europe. That passion and fighting spirit, despite the small number of players and modest conditions, made the Faroe Islands recognizable on the football map of the world.
In 2015, Željko and I opened a car detailing shop, which we still run, but we are gradually moving full-time into tourism. We started by renovating an apartment on the ground floor to rent to tourists, welcoming guests from all over the world through booking.com. Later, we added another one, but even that now seems too little. Last year, I graduated in Faroese Tourism and Culture at the University of Vestmanna, and now I work full-time as a hiking and tourist guide.
For now, I am the only local licensed guide for the Western Balkans in the Faroes. As a guide, I have the opportunity to visit the most beautiful places daily, and it truly is the best job I could imagine. The air is clean, there is no pollution, and the views are nothing short of breathtaking. I also get to meet fascinating people from all over the world and see my beautiful islands again and again through the eyes of someone discovering them for the first time.
My day almost always begins with the gym, unless I have a scheduled hiking tour. To be a hiking guide, I must always be in excellent shape. Summer days are filled with leading groups into the mountains or visiting the islands’ most attractive locations. That often includes helicopter flights, ferry trips, or speedboat rides, as well as planning cultural activities for tourists. Of course, cleaning and preparing the apartments is a job of its own.
In the meantime, I often organize special dinners called Heimablídni, which means “home hospitality.” This is a wonderful opportunity for tourists to visit us in our home, see how locals live, ask questions, and taste local food. It’s something no restaurant can offer, and many guests tell me it was the highlight of their entire stay.
Apart from food, tourists are mostly drawn here by nature, hiking, and photography. The images you see on social media show only a fraction of what we actually see with our own eyes. I do my best to show my guests the Faroes from a different perspective—places that haven’t already been photographed a million times on Instagram, or mountains that aren’t commercialized.
On my Instagram page, “Faroe Islands,” I share unfiltered snippets of our daily life. I never imagined anyone would be interested in seeing me swim in the cold ocean, hike up the mountains, clean and prepare fish, bake sourdough bread, or hang laundry outside. But it turned out that this unscripted, everyday life is exactly what made us so popular, and now we have over 20,000 followers. We don’t pretend; we live our lives like everyone else, just in a slightly more exotic place—and we choose to share that with others, who give back to us a hundredfold.
Retreats, Women’s Strength, and Life Lessons from a Cancer Survivor
Because of the many messages I received, I recognized the need women have to connect, to travel, and ultimately, to return to themselves. I believe that as women, we have given too much of ourselves to higher goals and other people’s interests. That’s why I decided to organize a special retreat for women from our region, where I welcome them into my home.
We organize sourdough bread workshops with a local baker—my friend who taught me—invite Marjun, a Protestant pastor who is also a wife, mother, and passionate hiker, a truly amazing woman; we have yoga classes with an instructor specialized in plus-size women who is also a stand-up comedian, and we visit special places on the islands that celebrate feminine energy.
And finally, a few words about myself.
I am Milica—first and foremost Željko’s wife, then Ana’s and Tanja’s mother, a passionate hiker, amateur baker and cook, tourist and hiking guide, lover of the Faroe Islands and of nature, ocean swimmer, and cancer survivor. But in reality, I am just an ordinary woman who loves life.
I am happy simply because I am alive and so are my loved ones. I have problems and stress like everyone else, but I have learned to chase away the dark cloud with laughter and to enjoy every day and every minute, for as long as I am allowed to walk this beautiful land. I don’t take any moment for granted, and through my retreats and Instagram posts, I would love to teach others the same.
Author’s text by Milica Bogdanović
